


Thanks for Not Harvesting My Organs

by 44TayLo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bruce is a poetry nerd because um yes?, Bruce is broke af, Clint is a theif, Clint is really smart, M/M, Pre-Slash, Reluctant Theif AU, and also a nerd, bruce is a nerd, mentions of Barney Barton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/44TayLo/pseuds/44TayLo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: Alrighty, here's a Hulkeye prompt. Barney sends Clint to rob Bruce's house, but Bruce's house is utterly devoid of things of value, and Clint is so tired he just falls asleep on the couch. Bruce finds him there the next morning and can't think of anything but offer him tea. :D</p><p>"Agitated, Clint went back out to the living room. He decided to take a closer look at the bookcase. That, of all things, was filled to capacity. Clint skimmed the shelves, but there were no priceless first editions of old classics. Mostly, there were works of nonfiction, containing information on quantum physics, with a few books on biology and human anatomy sprinkled here and there. He did spy worn, worthless copies of Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, and The Metamorphosis. Oh, and the Harry Potter series. Jeeze, this guy was a fucking nerd...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks for Not Harvesting My Organs

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any recognizable characters. I do not own the rights to the book Ariel, by Sylvia Plath, nor Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath (which is the poem Clint reads in the story).

As Clint picked the lock on the backdoor of a house, he silently cursed his brother. Why the fuck did he always get stuck doing the dirty work? Barney was probably asleep by now.

His brain unhelpfully supplied that it was because Barney couldn’t sneak around for shit. And he had an _actual_ job unloading cargo on the docks.

Clint had been all over town the past week stealing shit to hawk for rent money. He hated stealing. Really, he did. He hadn’t done it since his teenage years when it had been impossible to find work because he was underage. But he and his brother really needed the money. Clint had just been fired from his last job, and Barney had given him an ultimatum. Go back to stealing to cover his half of the rent, or he’d be thrown out on his ass.

After this house, he should have enough to cover his half of the rent until he found another job. After this house, he could go home and pass out. He really had been _all_ over town. Never rob more than one house in any given neighborhood. The more spread out the thefts are, the better. That was burgler-ing 101.

The lock finally gave, and he was able to open the door. He crept inside, using his preternatural eyesight to easily see in the dark. And what he saw was a whole lot of nothing. No DVD player, no TV, not even a damned coffee maker. Clint riffled through the cabinets and drawers. The owner of the house had one plate and what looked like a collection of plastic utensils from takeout orders. So much for stealing fine china.

He scoured the house, even venturing into the bedroom. There was absolutely nothing of value. The man who owned the place was sleeping in his bed, curled up into a tight ball that Clint knew just had to be uncomfortable. The guy had curly hair, and, quite honestly, an adorable face.

Agitated, Clint went back out to the living room. He decided to take a closer look at the bookcase. That, of all things, was filled to capacity. Clint skimmed the shelves, but there were no priceless first editions of old classics. Mostly, there were works of nonfiction, containing information on quantum physics, with a few books on biology and human anatomy sprinkled here and there. He did spy worn, worthless copies of _Frankenstein, The Invisible Man,_ and _The Metamorphosis._ Oh, and the Harry Potter series. Jeeze, this guy was a fucking nerd.

There was also a book simply titled _Ariel_. Curious, Clint grabbed it and flopped down on the couch. He wasn’t going to find anything of worth, and he didn’t really have time to make it to another neighborhood before sunrise. He figured he  might as well take a quick break before heading home.

He fumbled around in his pocket for a moment before taking out his flashlight. He rarely needed it, but he always brought one just in case. Clicking it on, he opened the book to a dog-eared page and began to read…

 _I have done it again._  
_One year in every ten_  
_I manage it–_

 _A sort of walking miracle, my skin_  
_Bright as a Nazi lampshade,_  
_My right foot_

 _A paperweight,_  
_My face a featureless, fine_  
_Jew linen. …_

“Um _…_ ”

Clint awoke with a snort. When had he fallen asleep? He forced his eyes open and was met with darkness. Sitting up, something slid off of his face and plopped onto his lap, revealing a curly haired man in boxers and a T-shirt. He was holding a steaming mug of tea (Clint knew it was tea because he could see the little string on the outside) in a cup that said “May the Mass Times the Acceleration be With You” in Star Wars script.

He glanced from the book in his lap to the man in front of him, and then to the ridiculous mug. This guy was seriously the _biggest nerd_.

The man followed his gaze to his cup and raised an eyebrow.

“Um. Want some tea?”

Clint couldn’t help it, he snorted a laugh.

The man gave an unsure, lopsided grin. “Can I, uh, ask what you’re doing in my house?”

“Well, I sort of…I was sort of planning on robbing you,” Clint admitted, because honestly, he was probably getting the cops called on his ass anyway.

The man chuckled and set his tea down on the coffee table. That chuckle quickly turned into a full on belly laugh. He clutched at his sides, nearly doubled over.

Clint considered making a break for it during his giggle-fit, but something about this whole situation was unreal. It must have been clouding his better judgment, because most of his thoughts were about how adorable this guy was.

Even after the man finally regained his composure, he continued to smile. “I’m sure you already figured this out, but there’s literally nothing to steal.”

“Yeah,” Clint admitted, rubbing at the crick in his neck. “That’s sort of why I fell asleep on your couch…You have a lot of cool books, though. I dig these poems.” He lifted the book up for the guy to see.

“Oh, me too.”

The guy was still grinning, and Clint was growing agitated waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Look, you seem like a cool guy and all, but if you could just call the police and get it over with, I’d really appreciate that.”

The man frowned, and while he still looked adorable, it wasn’t as good of a look on the guy.

“I don’t really see why I need to call the police,” he shrugged. “You didn’t steal anything–”

“Only because there wasn’t anything to steal,” Clint interjected.

“And you could have harvested my organs or something to sell instead, but you didn’t,” the guy continued.

Clint wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“Right? So I’m assuming you’re actually a decent human being who’s in a shitty situation. And trust me, I’ve been there. So do you want some tea, or what?”

Clint narrowed his eyes. This was way too good to be true. Still, he asked, “What kind?”

“Mint.”

He was smiling again, and Clint couldn’t help but notice how nice and full his lips were.

“Yeah, okay.”

As he followed the man’s retreating form into the kitchen, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Bruce,“ he answered over his shoulder.

“I’m Clint.”

“Nice to meet you. Though maybe you should’ve bought me dinner first before you slept over.”

Clint grinned even as he felt himself flush. Bruce poured him tea in a mug with a picture of a skeleton and script above and below it that read “The Average Human Body Contains Enough Bones to Make a Skeleton.” As they began talking about poems and Star Wars over tea, Clint began to suspect that this was the beginning of what was quite possibly the weirdest first date ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I have a thing for Lady Lazarus? Reviews and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Send me prompts on tumblr! My URL is supersecretsciencebrosclub.


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